And I get it: pictures of beatific celebrities breastfeeding their adorable children evoke ideas about “natural” motherhood and seek to end the shame that still exists around public breastfeeding. As Wilde tweeted, “Thanks [Glamour magazine] for knowing there’s nothing indecent about feeding a hungry baby.” There certainly is not – and the harassment mothers still face when they breastfeed in public is outrageous.

But the more we tout breastfeeding as the only “natural” choice (does that make us formula feeders “unnatural” mothers?) for moms who really love their kids, the more we add to the pressure all new moms face ... and reinforce the idea that women can’t be trusted to decide what’s right for their bodies.

In my case, when my daughter Layla was born, nearly three months early and weighing just 2lbs, breastfeeding wasn’t on the table. Instead, she was first fed intravenously and then later by feeding tube with milk I had religiously pumped. But the stress of having a very sick child does not do wonders for milk production and, by the time she came home two months later, I had to supplement breastfeeding with formula to make sure Layla got all the nutrition she needed. I felt like a failure and a terrible mother.

I enlisted the help of a lactation consultant and started pumping 15 minutes every hour (six hours a day!). Even as I cried in pain and was thrown into a horrible depression, I kept it up because I fully believed not only that “breast was best” but that formula was ruinous. It was only when I stopped – in part, because of the legitimate concerns raised by, among others, my extremely worried husband – that I truly bonded with my daughter. I had to give myself permission to be okay with bottle-feeding for nutrition and still breastfed Layla for comfort, for both our sakes.

But because women’s personal choices remain up for public debate, I encountered an incredible amount of disdain from people who didn’t know me, my daughter or our situation. Strangers even approached me on the street as I was feeding Layla, chastising me for not breastfeeding.

I know I’m not alone in this. I’ve heard from lots of women who were shamed when they bottle-fed their children, and I’ve watched friends with new babies field questions on Facebook from supposedly well-meaning people – some of whom are only the vaguest of acquaintances – about whether or not they’re going to breastfeed.

Breastfeeding moms get harassed, too – our culture expects women to cover up their “dirty pillows” for the sake of the children and the prudes on Facebook or sensationalizes the choice to not to do so. But that’s just another side of the same coin: people feel entitled to judge every choice that mothers make. We don’t get to be experts on what’s right for our individual bodies, and then we don’t get to be experts on what’s appropriate for our individual children.

Since when did personal parenting decisions become a community exercise?

The truth is that, for a lot of parents, that first moment of serene motherhood came with a bottle, not a breast. Others are going to breastfeed when and where they (and, more likely, their babies) want – and sometimes that’s going to be in public, or in pictures on Instagram. And as long as they are making the choices that are right for them and their children, I’m all for it.